


Sleepover

by Fedora



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mild Spoilers, fluffy fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fedora/pseuds/Fedora
Summary: At the end of Hive Jonathan says he needs to lie down for a bit.  Martin has claimed the only bed in the Archives, but is the one left to deal with logistics.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers are Extremely Negligible but Episode 32 Hive and Episode 39 Infestation

The recorder turned off with a snap, leaving his office silent. It was past end of the work day and everyone was either home or avoiding the offices. What were probably the last words Jane Prentiss had spoken as herself rang in his ears. All he was left with was her fear and second hand hate crawling through his mind. Jonathan couldn’t deny the supernatural nature of the worms, of the forces pulling at Jane Prentiss, and that other presence in the Archives, the one who liked the statements and didn’t sing but watched and listened and waited, had to be pleased.

  
He just needed to rest for a bit, needed to regain his equilibrium, and then he could get back to work. An archivist’s work was never done, always more to see and hear and put in order. He staggered away from his desk and towards the old storage room where he’d set up a cot for the times when he couldn’t face the city at night. There was a niggling thought that this was bad idea, but after Prentiss he couldn’t think what that might be beyond that his own bed in his own flat was far more comfortable.

And he could still get home tonight. If only he could lie down for a bit first. Then he’d be able to face what he could and not see out in the night.

**

Martin yawned, scratching the back of his arm. First pre-bed patrol of the archives completed and no sign of worms inside. The light was still on in John’s office, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone home and forgotten to turn the lights out first. (Martin understood, they were in the basement and it felt safer to start the day in a well-lit room.) It wasn’t comforting exactly to know he was alone in the Archives, but John had been staying far too late and coming in far too early recently; it was good to know he’d have time to do more than change clothes before needing to come back to work.

Or not. Martin stared at the bed, or he could have been so tired he forgot there was someone else here; that was not a possibility that Martin had originally considered, but he was now faced with evidence that it was a very likely one. John slept on the cot, not easily, his face was still deeply lined, and he curled in on himself, back pressed against the retaining wall. He twitched occasionally, breathing stuttering like the beginnings of a nightmare, but just curled tighter and stayed asleep.

And it would take a harder heart than Martin’s to wake him. Or maybe Tim, Tim definitely could have woken him, called him a taxi, and gotten him out the Institute’s doors. But then Tim went home at a decent time. Martin was living in the Archives while Jane Prentiss held them under siege, so that meant that he was doing the worst at handling this situation, but that left a lot of space between next worst and doing quite well. John was not doing quite well.

With a sigh, he pulled out the quilt he’d brought from his apartment and carefully shook it to check for worms. His mum had made it when he was small and sure there was something under his bed. It was just a bunch of red rectangular pieces sewn together to suggest a brick wall. Nothing could get through a brick wall, even a warm soft symbolic one. John settled more under the weight of the quilt uncurling enough that Martin wondered if he dared risk life and limb to get the archivist’s shoes off. Martin wondered if the amount of sleep he could get by scooting John over to share the cot would be worth whatever John did to him once he woke.

He found Katya, Esteban, and Carla up on the fourth floor, and with the promise of the second calzone he’d ordered for dinner secured Esteban’s help in borrowing, just borrowing thank you, the futon mattress from the storage room on the second floor where Denise crashed whenever she had too many deadlines come up at the same time. (Martin really needed to stop enabling this not bringing a lunch habit of Esteban’s; janitorial work looked hard and not the kind of thing that should be done on an empty stomach.)

Not even the leftover breadsticks would get Esteban down in the Archives after dark, which was honestly a bit insulting, but probably for the best. Any extra noise would then be Martin’s fault and John’s tongue was lethal enough when he was only sleep deprived and under caffeinated, no one needed to see what he would be like rudely awakened. This time Martin did risk getting John’s shoes off. Success and all limbs intact!

Finally, with futon mattress spread out on the floor (after double checking for worms), Martin did his last pre-bed worm check. Still clear. A sleeping bag had been the only thing on the cot before Martin decided to make things more homey, so he shook it out (worm free) and spread it over the mattress. Denise had made a better investment than John; the mattress was almost long enough for Martin to not worry about his feet. He got the light and snuggled down in the sleeping bag. It was nice not being alone in the Archives, and to know that some of the noises came from another breathing person.


End file.
